Death the Kid Journal Entry 4
by MySoulHeroEaterAcademy
Summary: Death the Kid writes a journal entry about an experience he had with Blackstar.


Journal entry # 4

So, here's an interesting thing that happened a while ago that I failed to write down right when it happened. I, of course, like detail, so I'll be writing the occurrence in a very detailed manner. Aside for clothing and such which I won't bother with, since we wear uniforms to school.

"If you keep acting like that, no one will think you're cool." Soul said this as I furiously cleaned my desk. Everyone in the classroom was talking and not paying attention, so I had reason to doubt him.  
"Soul, do you think I care if people think I'm cool?" I was too busy focusing on getting rid of the mess I was supposed to work on to notice Blackstar coming up behind me with a stupid grin. I know he was grinning because he's Blackstar. I know his grin was stupid because he's Blackstar.  
"GOTCHA!" The 'assassin' wrapped his arms around me and laughed, restraining my arms from cleaning the mess he caused.  
"Let go of me, Blackstar." I was slowly losing my cool. Of course if you asked Soul, he'd say I need one to lose one. "NEVER! I will surpass god, either by beating you in a fight, or thwarting your missions!"  
Soul continued to watch, stifling laughter as my frustration grew with the blue-haired menace. "Will you please let go of me? I'm trying to clean this ink off the desk in which you so fruitfully managed to get on it."  
"Fruitfully? It's ink, Kid, it's not coming off. Not how you're going about it." Blackstar forced me to face him. His voice was really starting to piss me off. Usually I could stand it; the physical contact, the loud and obnoxious voice in my ear, the poking fun, the laughter. This I usually could stand, like a bee sting or a fly buzzing around the house with no means what-so-ever. Today though, I had a goal to clean the mess he left me, and what does he do? He tells me I can't fix it. If I can't fix something so simple as a desk, what good am I?  
"Excuse me?" I put my hands on my hips when he released me, making sure he knew I meant business- like always. "What do you mean the ink won't come off?"  
"It's already dried on. There's no way that's coming off."  
"What are you saying?"  
"Kid, you can't clean it."  
My left eye began twitching, which happens when I get very, very, so very irritated. I wish it wouldn't, since when it does twitch, it makes my eyes appear asymmetrical... But I can't help it, just like my hair. Damn my hair. "Why would you put it on there... if you can't get it off?"  
He hears the bite to my last word and shrugs. "I don't know. It was funny-"  
"FUNNY?! How in the hell is getting permanent ink on my desk, watching me fuss over dismal attempts to fix it, all while Soul calls me uncool and people watching find it laughable, FUNNY?!"  
He sank back a little at that. He probably got the idea into his tiny little brain that I was mad at him and wasn't finding any of the situation humorous. He gave a nervous laugh and replied, "It's fun watching you get mad, I guess."  
I was silent for a moment, probably a minute, and stared at him. I glared right as his soul. That cursed soul. I then turned back to the table, with my wet rag still in hand that I had received from Doctor Stein, and continued scrubbing at the dried, already stuck on ink. Both Soul and Blackstar stopped laughing at that time.  
After a good half an hour, everyone had left since the school day was over. Only Blackstar stuck around to watch me. Maybe it was guilt that kept him by my side, although I hardly wanted him there. I could hear him think, feel his eyes on me. After an hour I realized it really wasn't going to come off, so, well... I started crying. What else was there to do? I felt so empty, bitter. The goddamn ink wouldn't come off! "I'm sorry." Blackstar apologized finally when I fell to my butt on the floor, sobbing. "I really am." He put his hand on my shoulder, which gave me little comfort. The table was a mess. A total, utter mess and I couldn't fix it.  
"I hate myself!" I wailed. "Look at me, Mr. Shinigami, and I can't even remove ink from wood! Furnished wood! Refined wood! I'm garbage! I spent a good two hours trying to fix it- and now I'll spend the rest of the night, the rest of my life worrying about it! It's so asymmetrical now, and it's all thanks to... It's all thanks to..." I looked over at him with my teary eyes. Lowering my voice, stopping my crying, I said what I knew to be true. "you."  
"Uh... yeah?"  
"It's all your fault."  
"What?"  
I stood up and he did as well. I poked his chest, making him jerk back a little. "You are the cause of my pain."  
"How?!" Blackstar was angry now, too. He pushed me a little. That was surprising, considering everything was his fault and now he seemed to have a problem with me. "It's not my fault you have such a problem with ink on your desk! You're the one that broke your pen."  
"I broke it because of you!" I poked his once with my other finger. I had to be symmetrical, poking him that is. "You tried to stab me!"  
"You kept playing with my hair!"  
"Yeah, cause you have really under-appreciated hair."  
"Then you tried pulling my pen out of my hand!"  
"So what?"  
"I was trying to write notes, Blackstar. Stein may not have been in the class at the time, but I'm a slow writer."  
"You know why?"  
"Why?"  
"You're always trying to make things so symmetrical." Blackstar's voice heightened to mocking me in an overly-annoying manner. He did hand gestures and everything. "Oh, symmetrical this and symmetrical that. Everything has to be symmetrical with you, or neat, or clean. Oh dear, this little flower in a vase is slightly taller than the others, so... snip, snip." He did his best impression of scissors with his hands. "One hair is out of place on my pretty little head? Snip, snip. Did I write my name slightly off center? I better erase that, or else the world is going to end. Is that a mud puddle? Better mop it up before I have a heart attack. Poor little me, I'm such garbage. Dirty, dirty, asymmetrical trash!" He then pretended to cry. I could feel the heat rising on my face, my fists clenching, my teeth grinding. He took more amusement from my expression. "Oh, and now you're angry. I can't imagine why. You can't have any fun, can you? Can't take a little teasing? Wow, at this rate, I'll definitely surpass-"  
At that moment I punched him. Pretty hard, too, considering he was sent a foot or two and landed on the floor. He was shocked, his face clearly showing his surprise. And then that surprise went from shock to anger. I was going to say something that would get to him, like his arm star looks stupid and asymmetrical, but then he shoved me and I fell down, so the insult I was planning on giving him didn't come out in time.  
I got up right away. I threw the wet rag, which was mostly dry by that point, at his face. He easily caught it and approached me with the yucky thing in his hand. He got right up to my face. Both of us were equally as stubborn to move from our positions in the classroom, and both of us were equally furious and unwilling to back down from the fight we clearly were having. He put the rag in front of my face. I could smell it, mildew up my nose. I had a bad feeling about that rag. "Don't you dare-"  
With one swift move he managed to shove the moist, dirty rag in my mouth. Right away I pulled it out, spitting into it, folding it, and neatly setting it on the desk closest to me. There was no way I'd be able to fight him while knowing an unfolded rag was randomly placed somewhere. "Wow, even now you're still trying to be neat." Blackstar laughed, and soon the real fight was on. He'd throw a punch and I'd dodge it. I'd kick at him and he'd block it without any trouble. That went on for a while. After some damage to both us and the classroom despite my attempts to not damage anything but him, we were left standing, panting and facing each other. My right arm was pretty bruised from falling into desks along with my back. From what I could tell, Blackstar's legs were the main 'pain' in his 'game'. "This is going nowhere. This is stupid." I inhaled sharply, my ribs hurting. "You're giving up pretty fast." Blackstar cackled. He was still real up for a fight. "You're pushing on a bit far."  
"Why are you so tired?"  
"I'm tired because you wear me out."  
"I'm too much for you to handle?"  
"No, you're too much for everyone. You're too much of a bother."  
"Go on, darling." He really wanted to get hit again.  
I walked closer to him as I went on. "You're an idiot, a moron, a dunce, a doofus, a dork, an obnoxious pig, a wacko, and I can go on."  
"Really?" He sounded hurt, which made me feel kind of bad. "So the truth comes out, eh? Is that how you really feel?" He came closer to me, his arms folded in front of him.  
"I... uh..." This fight wasn't meant to turn on me. It was his fault, after all, the ink on the desk. "You're coming off as sensitive now. I thought nothing could hurt the mighty Blackstar."  
He looked down at the floor. "Well, yeah. Of course it matters to me what you think of me, Kid. I care about your opinion."  
"..." Was the fight still on? I was having trouble separating the rain from the fire. "... Oh... N-no, I don't think that badly of you..."  
"That badly of me?" He really was hurt. "What do you think I am? I'm human, you know. I have feelings."  
"I know you're human, Blackstar." I shook my head. How was I supposed to respond? "No, I don't think that badly of you. I don't think badly of you... Period."  
"Period? That's a little final."  
"What do you want, then?"  
"How do you feel about me?"  
"I think you're cool... You're strong, no doubt. Full of energy." Okay, so I couldn't say anything bad at the moment because that would be mean and uncalled for. Especially when he was acting so... well, sad. "You're funny. You're reliable in a fight for the most part. You've got skill, determination..."  
Blackstar smiled happily, out of his sorrowful state. "Thanks. It's nice to hear that from you."  
"Okay then..." I started putting some chairs we had knocked over back up. No teachers saw us, from what I'm aware of, so we didn't get in trouble for fighting without a faculty member to watch. Then I thought about what the assassin had said to me. "How about when you mocked me? Were you being serious?"  
"What?" Blackstar thought for a moment, remembering he's impression of me. "Maybe a little. I mean, we were fighting then so I wasn't-"  
"It matters to me, Blackstar." I raised my eyebrows at him, and he sighed.  
"Yeah, I like you. I was just exaggerating some of your tendencies. That's all."  
"Excuse me?" I stopped picking up the knocked over chairs. "Really? You are really saying that to me?"  
"..." He understood what I was getting at. "Sorry." He helped pick things up and soon we had the room cleaned. "I really do like you, Kid."  
"I would imagine. We are friends."  
"... Right. That's what I mean. Of course."  
What a strange response. When would friends not like each other? When they fight, perhaps, but friends are friends for a reason. At least real friends like each other. "You know, we don't always get along, but I feel like we're pretty good friends."  
"I do, too." he smiled. For some reason there was a slight disappointment in the tone of his voice. Then somewhat dreamily, not really directed towards me, he said, "Yeah, were good friends."  
After we left the school and the classroom, after I got home and cleaned up, after a couple days have weeks have passed, I still feel as though I'm missing something. Something important, as if he said something in his words that wasn't spoken directly. And it bugs me like when I know something is nearby that is asymmetrical. It's a nagging feeling. I know I didn't grasp all of what he said, the subtleties in his speech which rarely occur. It's not like I can do anything as of now, but I'll be a detective and figure out what he meant with the bitterness behind 'friends'. I'll figure it out. Some time. Until then, I'll just be bugged by it.

I need to sleep. Shower. Do my assigned projects and such. Something to get my mind off of what happened. That's all I have to say. I wonder why he emphasized friends. Maybe he'll tell me? Oh well, I better focus on anything but this. That's about it for this journal entry. Until another interesting thing happens, I'll leave things here.  
-Death the Kid 


End file.
